


The World's Worst Talkshow

by kawada_s



Category: Battle Royale - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-12-04 14:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawada_s/pseuds/kawada_s
Summary: After their early exits in the Program, Yoshitoki and Fumiyo arrive to what comes next to find out that it was only the beginning. Given the task of interviewing their dead classmates as they arrive, will they be able to put on a good show or will they crash and burn, stuck in limbo for eternity? Whatever happens, it’ll definitely be unforgettable.





	1. Chapter One: Yoshitoki, Fumiyo, Mayumi & Yoshio

The World’s Worst Talk Show

Chapter 1: Yoshitoki, Fumiyo, Mayumi & Yoshio

Yoshitoki  had no idea how he had gotten here. One minute, he had been in a classroom – the _dreadful_ classroom, told he was to kill his classmates and other awful, awful things. Then, unspeakable pain had filled him. He knew he was dead then, and expected to fade away, hoping he’d at least be able to go and watch over Shuya and Noriko – but that was only the ideal outcome, really.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, unless heaven had suddenly become a cheesy talk show set.

Seeing absolutely no one around, Yoshitoki slowly stepped up onto the stage, looking at the large red couch and the table of snacks behind it, then looking over at the audience set up. There were around 35 or so chairs, he observed, almost enough for every one of his classmates that would be dead along with him after the twisted game was over. It was all so odd. Why was this set up? Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just move on and be done with it? Unfortunately, he doubted he would be getting any answers.

With a sigh, he took a seat on the couch, reaching over to take some snacks. He didn’t exactly know how he could still eat, seeing as he was dead, but he was grateful for it all the same. Somehow, the food made him feel a little less alone. He would no more go as far to say that food solved everything, but for now, it gave a temporary fix to his problem.

As he went to grab another handful of potato chips, Yoshitoki was startled so badly he almost dropped the whole bowl on the ground. The loud bang that he’d heard bounced around his head as he quickly stuffed the chips in his mouth and turned around to investigate. Was he finally going to be informed of his purpose here?

Not exactly, at least not at the moment. Almost exactly where Yoshitoki had landed when he ended up here – wherever it was – was a girl, curled up on the ground. She had on the Shiroiwa Junior High uniform. Immediately, rage and anxiety filled him. Who had those bastards killed this time? And… was it Noriko? As he ran to help the girl up, he desperately hoped it wasn’t her over and over in his head.

Much to his relief, the girl was not Noriko. Instead, looking rather dazed as she shakily got to her feet, was a girl he didn’t think he’d ever spoken to before – Fumiyo Fujiyoshi, the kind nurse’s aide. For a moment, he frowned – how could someone like Fumiyo have rebelled against the damn game? Or… had the game already begun, and someone had decided to play?

“What… what happened?” Fumiyo said wearily, lightly rubbing her forehead. It had all happened so quickly. They had been chosen for the Program, and she’d leaned over to ask Yukie about what they were going to do, and then… she had ended up here, wherever this was.

“You’re dead… just like I am,” Yoshitoki said, thinking of no other way that was any more graceful to break the news. He had never imagined he’d ever be telling someone that they were dead, but then again, he had never imagined that it would be his class picked for the Program as well.

“Oh,” Fumiyo mumbled. What exactly did you say to someone what they told you that you were dead? She didn’t exactly think Yoshitoki was lying, considering the fact that he had died several minutes ago, at least if the Program had truly happened. Even if it hadn’t, she highly doubted that Yoshitoki was the type of person to run around telling perfectly alive people they were dead. “Why are we here?”

Before Yoshitoki could reply, footsteps caught their attention.  The two quickly turned around, seeing a middle-aged man wearing strangely what seemed like a fast food uniform walking towards them. His face wore a rather annoyed expression as he adjusted his cap, as if he had been here for quite a long time. Yoshitoki’s face drained of all colour. Was _this_ what he and Fumiyo would become?

“Welcome to the afterlife,” the man said in a flat voice. “Well, technically, not the afterlife, but it’s good enough for now. Where you end up after this depends on how good of a job you do. Listen to your task carefully-“

“What the fuck is this?!” Yoshitoki yelled, cutting him off. “Isn’t being in the Program bad enough?! I don’t want to play any fucking games. I just want it all to be over!”

“Like I was saying, listen to your task carefully. Your class was one of the many selected for the Program – sorry about that by the way, though I had nothing to do with it. I’m dead. Where was I? Oh, that’s right, your task. Since you both died first in your class’s Program, you have taken over the duties of hosts. To an audience of your future dead classmates, you will interview them one by one, asking them about their experiences and their death, with the heavens deciding where they will go eventually. If they decide they’re good enough to stay, they’ll join the audience and then move on at the end. If not, we have the Hellevator for that,” the man said, pointing to a large elevator in the corner of the room, flames coming out of it. A neon sign above it read ‘Hellevator.’

“If the heavens decide what’s gonna happen to us anyway, what’s the point in going this whole talk show shit?” Yoshitoki demanded to know.

“Good question, wish you didn’t ask,” the man said. “If you both don’t complete your task – or put on a good show for that matter – you are destined to remain here forever. No heaven. No Hellevator. Just this in-between period, with only each other for company, for _eternity.”_

Before Yoshitoki could say anything else, Fumiyo shot him a strained smile, deciding she would try and make the best out of the situation. Maybe once they completed this task, things would finally start getting better for them? If that was possible…

“Come on, Kuninobu. Didn’t you always dream of being on TV?” Fumiyo said, trying to be cheerful. Yoshitoki just scoffed, walked back over to the couch, and dug into the snacks again. Fumiyo sighed in relief – at least he was going to do it, then. She shot the strange man an awkward smile before she began to walk over to the couch.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to yell out – but only if it’s _urgent,”_ the man stated, and then he was gone.

Fumiyo took a seat on the couch and grabbed a chocolate bar, deciding that if they were stuck here, she was entitled to enjoy some snacks. Yoshitoki continued to do the same, and an awkward silence quickly enveloped the room, only broken when Yoshitoki realised this was what _eternity_ would look like if this didn’t go to plan.

“You know.. maybe this’ll be quick,” Yoshitoki laughed nervously. “No one will actually play the game. Everyone will probably band together and-“

He was cut off by the loudest sound either of them had ever heard. The two jumped, dropping their snacks on the floor, quickly finding the source of the noise. It was a chair. The chair had not broken the stage though, which seemed rather confusing, but anything seemed to be able to happen in the afterlife.

“Sorry,” the strange man called out, voice echoing around the room, “I forgot to mention that when one of your classmates dies, a chair crashes down for them for their interview.”

“Already?!” Yoshitoki yelled. “Maybe they aren’t out the door yet. Maybe that bastard-“

“Um… Kuninobu, they’re here,” Fumiyo said quietly, pointing to the person that had just landed, right where they had what felt like forever ago.

Another girl was slumped on the floor, wearing the Shiroiwa Junior High school uniform as expected. Slowly, she got up, brushing her hair out of her face, her pigtails messed up from the landing. Both Yoshitoki and Fumiyo had never spoken to this person before, only faintly recognising her, but they knew that it was her job to make her feel welcome. As Fumiyo prepared a welcoming speech, Yoshitoki beat her to the punch.

“State your name, class number, way of death, who killed you, and take a seat on the stage, thank you very much,” Yoshitoki said quickly. Fumiyo’s eyes widened, and she kicked him in the shin. Sadly, as they were dead, this did not hurt whatsoever. The girl nodded, looking terrified, and took a seat in the chair that had crashed down for her, and trying to prepare herself to speak.

“My name is Mayumi Tendo, girls’ number fourteen, and I was shot in the neck with a crossbow bolt. I’m not sure who killed me,” Mayumi said quietly, still incredibly confused over the set up. She decided to respond to Yoshitoki’s questions, as once that was out of the way, maybe they’d tell her what on Earth was going on.

“Great, so I guess some people are already playing,” Yoshitoki said, looking down at the ground. Her student number ran through his mind – if she was girls’ number fourteen, Shuya had to be joining the game soon most likely – or he may even be in the game right now. He hoped desperately that Shuya would not run into the person with the crossbow, and Noriko too for that matter.

“It seems that way,” Mayumi mumbled, fiddling with her hair. “May I ask… do you know why we’re here?”

“We have to host a talk show and interview our dead classmates in order to pass on to whatever may be next,” Fumiyo explained, still unable to fully process it herself. “Crazy I know.”

Before Mayumi could speak again, she just about jumped out of her seat at the sight and sound of a chair crashing down beside her own. The three on the stage saw that another person had arrived to be interviewed, a boy this time. Shaking, looking around as if everyone was plotting against him, he got to his feet, letting out a gasp when he saw Mayumi. It was Yoshio Akamatsu. As horrible as it sounded, Yoshitoki had thought that the boy would probably die early in the game.

“Akamatsu, come up to the stage,” Fumiyo called out, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Yoshio, shaking, complied.

“What… what is this place?” Yoshio asked. He almost moved his chair slightly away from Mayumi, but decided against it at the last moment. It would make him look too suspicious. Maybe they’d never find out…

“The afterlife, which is apparently a bad talk show,” Mayumi said to him. Yoshitoki looked over at her, immediately offended. She was only their first guest, after all. They were trying their best to make this work.

“Okay, I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that, so let’s get on with the questions, Akamatsu. State your class number, way of death, and who killed you, if you can remember,” Yoshitoki said, deciding that would be his standard question formula. Fumiyo frowned at him, and decided she would try and get in before him next time.

“S-so… I’m b-boys’ number one, I was shot with a crossbow bolt… and I… I was killed by Niida,” Yoshio said quietly, looking down at the stage. He only looked away when he realised the stage gave a perfect reflection of his face, something he didn’t want to see at all in the moment. He only felt worse when Yoshitoki let out a few quiet chuckles.

“You… you both were killed by _Niida?”_ Yoshitoki said, laughing lightly. Fumiyo glared at him, and he quickly shut up.

Yoshio looked down at the floor, starting to shake again, while Mayumi tried to accept what had happened. Kazushi Niida had been the one with the crossbow, who shot her with no hesitation? In a way, it made sense. No one liked Kazushi, and this was a fact extremely obvious. He was probably going to begin a spree of revenge, which made her feel utterly ill.

“What do we ask them next?” Yoshitoki leaned over, whispering to Fumiyo. She looked at him, simply giving him a shrug. Yoshitoki then turned back to the two ‘guests,’ and asked them the first thing that came to mind. “So… um… anything you guys want to tell us?”

Yoshio looked at them for a moment, deciding that the two somehow _knew._ He had never, ever been good at lying, and now was no different. He burst into tears, his sobbing echoing around the room, before admitting the truth to everyone.

“It… it wasn’t Niida who killed you, Tendo,” Yoshio wept. “It was me! I… I was scared… n-no one in this class likes me or cares about me… I knew… just knew… that they’d all be out to get me first. So I felt like I had to get them… so I shot you before I could have a second thought about it.”

“This would be a good moment to start up a group counselling feature,” Yoshitoki whispered to Fumiyo. At first, she wanted to glare at him again, before realising that it was a pretty good idea, both for the show and for Mayumi and Yoshio.

“So, Mayumi, how does that make you feel?” Fumiyo said, remembering something that she had heard on a television show a friend had showed her once.

“Well… I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to react to being told that,” Mayumi muttered. “Getting mad won’t make me any less… dead. I’m not justifying your actions here, Akamatsu, but I guess we were all scared in this situation, and some people are gonna make some bad decisions as a result... really bad decisions.”

“Well said, Tendo,” Fumiyo nodded. “And Akamatsu, I promise, there are people in our class that like you and care about you.”

“Really?” Yoshio said, this directed at both Mayumi and Fumiyo. “If you’re sure, Fujiyoshi, can you name someone?”

“Me,” Fumiyo said quietly. “I like everyone in our class. If only everyone was able to get along with each other. That would be the ideal situation…”

Silence enveloped the room for far too long after that. Yoshitoki sighed, wondering how on Earth they would be able to keep this show going, when the strange man’s voice filled the room again. Yoshio and Mayumi looked around nervously, but after seeing Fumiyo and Yoshitoki barely react, they decided to just go with it. It was probably just another weird feature of the afterlife. Luckily it was an easier one to get used to.

“You know, you don’t have to keep your guests on the stage until the next chair crashes down. Once you guys think your work is done, you can dismiss them at any time.”

“Gee, thanks you finally telling us,” Yoshitoki muttered. “Why couldn’t you give us like, a manual or something.”

“Damn – how have I never thought of that before?” the strange man said to himself. “I guess I’ll have to keep it in mind for next time, if I bother to remember.”

Yoshitoki glared up at the ceiling, looking as if he were about to explode. Fumiyo’s face went a shade of pink as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, wondering if she could calm him down. When it became apparent that she couldn’t really do anything, she decided the best thing she could do was get the guests off the stage if he was about to start yelling again. She awkwardly looked around and grabbed two large bowls of snacks before turning back to Yoshio and Mayumi.

“Well… uh, thank you for your time… and… enjoy these snacks,” Fumiyo said quietly, passing each a bowl. At the sight of precious snacks fading away from him as Yoshio and Mayumi walked off the stage, Yoshitoki let out a yelp. He then reminded himself that there were many other snacks still remaining, and to reinforce this idea, grabbed a pretzel for comfort.

“Y-you… you’re welcome, I guess,” Yoshio stammered, taking a seat in the audience. Awkwardly, Mayumi took a seat beside him, focusing her attention on the snacks.

Before Fumiyo could reply to him, she, along with everyone else in the room, was startled by the sound of three chairs crashing down onto the stage. Yoshitoki let out a shout of frustration, while Fumiyo, Mayumi and Yoshio all looked a little scared. Deep down, they knew it was inevitable. The deaths were going to continue, but they didn’t think that there would be so many chairs crashing down at once, especially not this early. They were now all learning to expect the unexpected, even if they really didn’t want to.

“What was that, Fujiyoshi, about wanting everyone to just get along?” Mayumi said blankly, trying to distract herself about how awful the sight of the three chairs had made her feel.

Fumiyo did not reply. Instead, she just stared over at the place where she figured the people would land, face draining of all colour, waiting to find out what had happened. Whatever it had been, she knew that it of course would not have been anything good.


	2. Chapter Two: Izumi, Hiroshi, Ryuhei & Mitsuru

Chapter Two: Izumi, Hiroshi, Ryuhei & Mitsuru

The first person to crash down was a girl. Despite the harsh landing, her clothing was still rather neat and her hair still secure for the most part, it quite obvious that she was one of the members of the class that took great pride in her appearance. Yoshitoki recognised her when he got a look at her face as she stood, appearing to be in a bit of a daze. Izumi Kanai was another student he hadn’t really spoken to, and another that he didn’t think would last very long – if she failed a _relay_ back at the class sports day, how was she going to fare in a death game?

“Fumiyo!” Izumi exclaimed once the room stopped spinning, bringing Yoshitoki’s introduction to a screeching holt. She walked up to the stage as fast as she could, trying to fight the feeling that she was going to fall over at any moment. It was irritating, but she didn’t mind too much – if a bit of dizziness was all she was left with after what she had been through, she was definitely lucky. “You _… you’re okay!”_

“Well, I’m okay as I can be, I guess,” Fumiyo said, a small smile spreading across her face as she returned Izumi’s hug. She wasn’t one of her closest friends, but knowing she was there still felt like a bit of a comfort to her. Things obviously weren’t perfect, they weren’t ever going to be again, but having someone around that she knew somewhat well made her feel like she really could go on with the show.

“Where… where are we?” Izumi asked, taking a careful seat on her chair, wondering for a moment if it was some sort of trap. She relaxed slightly when she realised everything was fine… _well, as fine as it all could be,_ and waited to get her answer. Her mind was completely blank. She had never imagined that the afterlife would look like _this_ … not even in the slightest.

“Well… we are dead… but not exactly in the afterlife, I guess. This concept is rather new to me as well,” Fumiyo told her. She heard a crash nearby, but she and Yoshitoki decided to ignore it, attention remaining on their classmate. “We just have to put on a good show, apparently. Then… we get to move on.”

“I have no idea what could possibly come after this,” Yoshitoki  muttered. “When things seem to have reached their limit, the universe makes them somehow even worse. _Thanks again for this, mystery man!_ ”

When the voice rose from the depths, Izumi almost fell off her chair, catching herself in the last moment. When she looked over at Fumiyo and Yoshitoki, and noticed their blank expressions, she relaxed a little. That was obviously only standard practice for this strange place.

“It’s not my fault – didn’t I say that? Don’t shoot the messenger – ha! Shoot! I’m already dead! It wouldn’t do much, would it?”

Yoshitoki glared up at the well-lit ceiling of the stage. The mystery guy obviously knew what they were doing somehow, as he got a reply almost right away. Fumiyo sighed as he went on, hoping that this wouldn’t end up with a full-blown argument erupting between Yoshitoki and the ceiling.

“Didn’t like that, did you? Well, enough about me. I gotta say, your show was doing well.. right up until a few minutes ago. You know it’s pretty rude to completely _ignore_ one of your guests, right?”

Fumiyo and Yoshitoki looked over at Izumi to see Hiroshi Kuronaga slouched down in a battered chair, awkwardly waiting to be given attention. Yoshitoki’s anger at the mystery man melted away and was replaced with amusement – this whole situation was peak Hiroshi, really. While a member of one of the two gangs in their class and was feared as a result, Hiroshi was often forgotten by everyone… even the members of his own gang. He wanted to laugh, knowing he had nothing to lose now, but he still managed to refrain.

“Uh… hello,” Hiroshi mumbled. For several seconds his face remained blank, until he suddenly gave Yoshitoki a glare, as if he’d suddenly remembered that he was meant to be feared. This only made Yoshitoki want to laugh more, but before he could, the mood was killed by someone crashing down. Fumiyo looked over at the chairs and gulped. There was still one more person left to come.

The bright yellow marked the classmate as Ryuhei Sasagawa, another member of the gang. No one liked Ryuhei very much, even the members of his own gang, but still, no one messed with him. Yoshio sank down in his seat at the sight of him, hoping that he wouldn’t have anything snide to say, figuring that maybe, he’d be prolonged with his own death long enough to not fling an insult in his direction. While the sight of him was scary to him, he still shared the same feelings as the majority of the other students in the room – confusion.

How on Earth had two members of a feared gang, with a leader that was no doubt able to protect them, gotten wiped out so early in the game?

“State your name, class number, way of death, and who killed you, thank you very much,” Yoshitoki said as soon as Ryuhei sat down. Now that Ryuhei was dead, he didn’t feel obligated to be nice to him. Really, what was the worst he could do in this kind-of afterlife?

To everyone’s surprise, Ryuhei was completely silent – before all this, no one could ever get him to shut up (though most of the time, if he had, it really would have been for his own good), giving them even more evidence that things were not right. Hiroshi was silent too, not even looking at Ryuhei, the quiet going on for several minutes. Izumi, not wanting to hear the voice of the mystery man again, suggested that she could explain, but Ryuhei made it clear he was not going to have it.

“Well, firstly, I’m gonna answer this my way to start,” Ryuhei said, trying his hardest to appear threatening. Yoshitoki really wanted to throw one of the bowls behind him at Ryuhei, but didn’t want to jeopardise his chance of getting the full story… or lose any of the precious, precious snacks.

“Go on, Sasagawa,” Fumiyo forced herself to give him a small smile.

“So… you already know who I am – you’d have to be an idiot not to, right?” Ryuhei said smugly. The audience remained silent. With a deep sigh, he tried to force his words to come out, but it just seemed far too embarrassing to speak. No doubt at least _one_ person in the room was going to laugh at him when he told his story, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

“Are you going to tell us?” Yoshitoki frowned, his mind drifting off to thoughts about being stuck _here_ for _eternity._

“Come on,” Hiroshi nudged him. “Or are you too _scared?_ ”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryuhei snapped at him. His credibility being challenged was enough to kick him into gear. “So… when we were in the classroom, the Boss passed us a note to meet him somewhere specific. Of course, if there’s anyone that could get us out of this fucked up mess it would be the Boss, so we followed his instructions and showed up at the site. Kanai was there. He was holding a knife to her throat. He asked Hiroshi for a coin, and by that point, we were so confused. How the fuck could someone like Kanai pose any sort of threat to the Boss? She’s one of the most forgettable members of our class!”

The entire talk show set went quiet for a moment. Mayumi just shrugged, willing to let Izumi take the ‘most forgettable member of the class title,’ the same going for Hiroshi. Fumiyo shot a glare over at Ryuhei and waited for him to continue, knowing that there would be no apology in sight for Izumi. _Wasn’t being killed so early enough?_

“Thank you, Sasagawa,” Izumi mumbled as Ryuhei went to open his mouth again. She tried not to take it too personally, but she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at his comment. She tried to get involved, make a name for herself and make a connection with the members of her class… but it hadn’t saved her from the forgettable title.

“Yeah yeah, no problem,” Ryuhei, not getting her sarcasm, shrugged and paused his storytelling to grab some snacks. Yoshitoki almost screamed out in protest when he saw him grab two fistfuls of his absolute favourite type of potato chips, but the look Fumiyo gave him stopped him in his tracks. “So… uh… as I was saying… yeah. Kanai’s completely forgettable, so we were so confused as to what the Boss would have to do with her-“

“So we ask him that,” Hiroshi cut his friend off, now wanting to present his starring role in the story. “And he asks me for a coin. Luckily I have one in my pocket, so I give it to him because he’s the Boss even though he’s rich enough already and-“

“HEY! This is MY story,” Ryuhei snapped at him, elbowing him in the side. Hiroshi quickly retaliated.

Soon, the two boys were in a miniature fight, but still remained in their chairs. They mumbled childish things to one another and looked like absolute fools. Fumiyo quickly stuffed her face with snacks to hide her laughter, Izumi looked away from the pitiful sight, and Yoshio hid his smile behind a can of drink. The charade _only_ stopped when a crashing noise filled the room – another student.

Ryuhei screamed and fell off his chair, and Yoshitoki couldn’t help but snort. Fumiyo was more focused on figuring out who the student was. Rumpled uniform, cold stare, and permed hair – it was Mitsuru Numai. Now, this really was a mystery… save for one and their beloved leader, the gang was all there. Had the two teamed up together to wipe them out? Hopefully, they could solve this.

Mitsuru, head down, walked up to the stage. He plonked himself down in the armchair that had crashed down for him. Fumiyo, trying to butter him up before she tried to suck the story out of him, offer him a can. Without a word, he cracked it open and took a long sip.

“So… Numai…” Fumiyo laughed nervously, grateful that Yoshitoki had restrained himself. She knew he was only trying to navigate his way through this awful show, but him making it worse was the last thing they all needed. “How was your trip into the afterlife?”

“Shit,” Mitsuru grumbled. Already having downed the can, he crumpled it up and threw it across the stage. Ever so slightly, Izumi and the two hosts flinched. “Played for a goddamn fool. Can’t believe it. Can’t believe I didn’t see it. Why did I waste my time on him? I thought he was everything…”

Everyone looked a little confused for a moment, wondering why Mitsuru was spitting out a teen girl’s diary, before finally waking up. _Oh…_

“So, your connection wasn’t enough to save you, hey?” Ryuhei said smugly. Mitsuru looked like he wanted to break every bone in his body, a difficult thing to do in their state, but he refrained. He was still too in shock to inflict any harm on them – even if he really did want to beat up Ryuhei. “Good to know we all stepped on the same step.” 

Mayumi snorted a little at his analogy. Yoshio did the same, but was a little better at hiding it… not that she had been trying.

“Can you tell us the story, Numai?” Fumiyo asked softly. She passed over a bowl of pretzels to Yoshitoki, as a little reward for shutting up for so long. Mitsuru nodded at her, got up from his armchair and paced around the stage. The hosts decided to let him – anything to get the details.

“I thought we were all set. The Boss would get us out of that damn island, and it’d all be fine. I took a little longer to meet him, but it didn’t matter. He’d be there all the same. So, I get there… and something’s off. Ryuhei’s on the floor. Hiroshi’s on the floor. Same with Kanai. Sho’s nowhere to be found. I wonder if he turned his back on us and bumped off us all, then I see the Boss. He tell me that they all tried to kill him – had to be bullshit. How the hell could Ryuhei and Hiroshi try to kill the Boss? I’m not gonna badmouth you, Kanai – you were just an innocent girl in this situation. Sorry,” Mitsuru shrugged.

“Hey! I could kill the Boss if I wanted to!” Hiroshi snapped. Izumi ducked her head down and blushed at Mitsuru’s statement, unable to help herself. She hadn’t expected him to be kind to her.

“Want to repeat that?” Mitsuru turned to Hiroshi. He yelped, shook his head, and took some snacks for comfort.

“Carry on, Numai,” Fumiyo nodded. Mitsuru nodded, and everyone pulled their chairs a little closer to him.

“Boss then starts going on about some coin. Heads, he’d save us all. Tails, he’d play. I realise the outcome too late,” Mitsuru paused. He cracked open another can, downed it all, then continued. “Last thing I see is the love of my life shoot the shit out of me.”

The hall was quiet. Tears shone in Izumi and Fumiyo’s eyes – imagine being betrayed like that by the one you love? On the other side, however, were Ryuhei, Hiroshi, Yoshitoki and Mayumi – who all broke out in cackling laughter. Yoshio was on the verge of laughter, but choked it down. Mitsuru had never done a thing to him, and he’d always been nice to the girls…

“Can’t believe it! Boss got you right in his trap and killed you!” Ryuhei said between laughs. Mitsuru threw a can at his head.

“That happened to you too,” Mitsuru snapped.

“It’s funny because you’re you!” Hiroshi delivered a profound statement.

“Well… I… I’m sorry that happened, Numai,” Fumiyo said, raising her voice ever so slightly to be heard over the laughter. “Here.... take some snacks and find a seat in the audience. And… if you ever need to talk, we can pencil in a counselling segment anytime.”

Mitsuru took the snacks and nodded at her offer. The Kiriyama Family and Izumi all disappeared into the audience. When Ryuhei tried to sit next to Yoshio, Mayumi ordered him to go away, leading to the group sitting on the other side of the room, Izumi the only one allowed to stay.

“So, how are we going?” Yoshitoki called out to the ceiling.

“What was that?” the voice yelled back. “Oh. Must’ve fallen asleep.”

“FUCK YOU.”

The room was silent after that, waiting for either an idea, or another chair. It was inevitable.


End file.
